Educational Decree
by Courbeau
Summary: Umbridge's reign of terror provokes the rebellious side of Hermione Granger. With the help of George, she begins to see the benefits of breaking rules. Non-canon. GW/HG


BANG.

Ron's cards blew up in his face, covering him in soot from the shoulders up. Harry was doubled over laughing, soot gracing the tip of his nose and smudges laying on his cheeks. Ginny shook her head and carried on writing the letter she had in her lap to her mum and dad, surely adding in comments for their benefit about the current activities of the Common Room.

It was getting on in the evening, and most of the younger Gryffindors had drifted up the dormitory stairs already, leaving the OWL students and the NEWT students to study tiresomely. Of course, in the case of Ron and Harry, studying wasn't needed. They could pass their end-of-year exams by pulling a magnificent display of heroics crossed with stupidity out of their behinds. Or at least that's what _they_ seemed to think.

The portrait hole opened and in jumped George Weasley, making his way over to the fireplace where they were seated. He ruffled Ginny's hair playfully and told her to say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for him before dropping himself into the seat next to Hermione, jostling her books and papers.

"George, did you have to?" Hermione huffed, adjusting herself on the couch and folding her legs under her again. Ron and Harry were setting up another game of cards and Ginny had wandered off to speak with a few friends from her own year.

A lop-sided smile appeared on his face and his sapphire eyes gleamed. Hermione swallowed.

"Yes. If I hadn't, you wouldn't have taken any notice."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tucked a curl behind her ear.

"Why are you so late getting in anyway?" She finished a sentence on the essay she was working on with a pronounced period before looking up across the couch at him again. He held up his left hand, backside facing her. Red welts had risen on his skin, angry and irritated. Blood had been smeared down towards his wrist and some of it had been soaked up by the cuff of his uniform shirt.

"Detention," he said simply, grimacing.

"Hold on," Hermione rose and disappeared up the girl's steps hurriedly, reappearing soon after with a washcloth and a bottle of yellowy liquid. She sat next to him, sitting on her feet again and soaked the cloth through before pulling George's hand into her lap.

"What did you do this time?" she inquired, gently daubing the wound and wiping away the dried blood. George winced slightly, breathing deeply as Hermione worked.

"Fred and I were riding brooms through the corridors," he shrugged, before hissing. "Not being dangerous, of course, bloody old hag. We were just helping Nick with Peeves. You'd think she'd say 'thank you', at least."

Turning the cloth inside out to the clean side, she pressed it flat to his flesh and felt him un-tense and relax as the Murlap essence soothed his heated skin.

"So where's Fred, then? He must have been in detention, too," Hermione asked, nodding towards his hand. George smirked and Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach.

"_Angelina's_ making it better," he raked his other hand through his hair and wiggled his brows, chuckling. Hermione blushed and pursed her lips, allowing George to take his hand back before shifting back to the far side of the couch towards her things. Having kicked her shoes off earlier, she crossed her bare legs at the ankle and reached for the book she had been reading before finishing her essay.

"What is this stuff anyway?" George inquired, lifting the cloth in indication.

"Diluted Essence of Murlap. I always have some now for Harry when he gets back from detention with Umbridge," she cracked her book open. George nodded in understanding.

"Do you mind?" he questioned, motioning to her lap.

"No, go ahead," she replied, thinking he would cross his feet on her legs. She jumped as he turned himself around and rolled his head onto her thighs and stretched his legs out down the couch. Hermione lifted the book up in front of her and set her elbow on the arm rest so as not to smother his face with her novel and folded her other arm over her stomach next to George's head. His body heat warmed her legs and arms and she felt quite content to sit there and leech heat from him if he was just going to let her.

The minutes ticked by in a companionable silence between the two, though on the inside, Hermione felt like she was about to crack to pieces. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt like this around George.

Eventually, she had rolled back her sleeves and her free hand had taken its chances and made its way into George's hair. Her nails scratched lightly along his scalp, and he sighed in satisfaction, continuing to press the cloth to his hand and close his eyes.

In due course, the number of people in the common room dwindled until finally even Harry and Ron had said goodnight, Ron giving her and his brother a strange look as he passed by. Hermione remained by the small fire with George dozing on her, sleepily opening his eyes every once in a while. Her hand was now resting on his chest near his heart, rising with every small breath he took in. She could feel his heartbeat and frowned, thinking that that was such a personal thing that maybe she shouldn't be touching him.

Hermione continued to flick page after page over until George stirred and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Hermione glanced down at him.

"Why hello, sleeping beauty," she laughed quietly as he yawned again. "Good nap?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He made to sit up. "I am rather gorgeous though, aren't I? I would, of course, ask that you use something more manly if ever we are in the company of people the next time you comment on my unusually good looks, though. Handsome is a favourite, as well as dashing," he continued, making Hermione snort. She went back to turn her page again and he fell silent and still.

"What?" she looked up hesitantly, quite well aware of how alone they were and what sort of feelings where bubbling low in her stomach.

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, eyes glittering, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a warm, lazy kiss. Hermione sighed happily as he pulled away, leaving a silly smile on her face.

"Goodnight, Hermione. Thanks for taking care of my hand."

George shuffled over to the stairs and hopped them two at a time out of sight.

* * *

"_Why_ are Mondays so _painful?_" Ron whined, throwing himself down next to Harry on one of the benches outside. The early morning sun was watery at best and bathed everything in a cool light.

"Because you were up until three this morning finishing your Potions homework, Ronald. Maybe if you had done it sooner, instead of insisting on playing exploding snap all weekend, you might be a little more prepared for the day," Hermione chewed slowly on the apple she had snagged from the Great Hall before following the boys outside for a bit of fresh air before classes.

Hermione, of course, was ready for anything the day happened to throw at her. After helping George last night, she had slipped into a contented sleep with a smile on her face, remembering his warm touch and infectious laugh and the way his lips... Hermione grinned and took another bite of apple, leaning over the stone ledge of the window cut-out into the courtyard. Other students could be seen wandering out in the morning quiet as well as the Trio, some reciting magical rules and definitions or chatting with their own friends.

"What are you so happy about anyway?" Harry questioned, noticing his friend's contented demeanor with the quirk of an eyebrow.

"Nothing, Harry. It's just a nice day and-" Hermione cut off abruptly when she felt a cool gust of air on the back of her legs, ruffling her skirt slightly. Looking behind her, she saw Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley with their heads bent over a textbook and sheaves of parchment laying about them haphazardly. Others roamed aimlessly, whiling the time away until class was called.

Ron craned his head to look around her.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione turned back quickly.

"Nevermind, I just thought I felt-"

A much larger rush of wind blew about Hermione's legs, flipping her skirt up completely and raising goosebumps on her skin. She jumped and turned, blushing furiously and tugging her uniform back down into place.

Still, no one could be seen paying much attention to her. Casting her eyes over the people outside once more, Hermione blushed even deeper when she saw a group of fourth years laughing at her.

When she turned back around, she found Ron and Harry already back in conversation and waving to Fred and George as they crossed the cobbled stones to join them.

"What a fine morning it is, wouldn't you say, George?" Fred sat down next to Harry as George hopped up and planted himself down beside Hermione.

"Terrifically tantamount to yesterday, Fred. Although it is a bit breezy this exceptional morning," he grinned and flicked his eyes to the girl leaning over the ledge next to him. She was chewing pensively before her eyes snapped up to his in indignation, red seeping into her cheeks once more. She was about to open her mouth and say something when she thought better of it and pursed her lips, frowning down at her apple core. She straightened and came around the stone barrier to lean against it, returning to her place next to the Weasley twin.

"You do realize that Gudgeon hasn't managed to catch the snitch in going on four years now, right? There's no way he just wakes up one day this season and says to himself 'Yeah, I haven't been doing my best lately, but it's time to buck up' and manages to pull a win out from under the Prides, say."

Fred, Harry and Ron were now amidst a heated conversation revolving around the seeker for the Chudley Cannons and how poorly his performance was these days.

"Sure, but you can't compare the Prides with the Cannons. I mean, McCormack hasn't been saving even the easiest of shots in their practices. I read an article..."

At that moment, the bell rang and the wanderers began to shuffle back through the front doors with equally unenthused looks gracing their faces.

George inclined his head and held his arm out stiffly.

"M'lady?"

Hermione's lips twitched with laughter at his pompous tone and she looked up at him through her lashes before picking her book bag up and folding her hand over his forearm.

"Sir," she curtsied prior to him steering her towards the castle, following after the still-arguing boys ahead of them.

"Where will I be escorting you to this morning, Miss Granger?" George enquired quietly.

"To the dungeons, Mr. Weasley," she smiled.

* * *

The lunch bell tolled throughout the castle, rolling down the hallways and reverberating though classroom doors, seeking out the eager ears of the students packed away, quietly studying for their own good. Immediately the corridors flooded with children and a vast tide of uniformed witches and wizards were bottlenecked into the Great Hall. Chatter sprung from every group like leaks from an old, rusted pipe.

Draco Malfoy and his band of no-good-doers arrogantly displayed the Purple 'I's on their robes as Delores Umbridge's voice repeated the Educational Decrees on a maddening loop.

"_Broomsticks may not be flown on school grounds unless during authorized Quidditch practice._"

Ron and Harry squeezed their way in beside Hermione, Neville and Ginny.

"You know, I don't think she realizes that her voice makes most of us determined to break her Decrees at every given opportunity," Hermione was saying, and Harry glanced up to the Head Table at the pink-decked woman sitting in the Headmaster's chair. Umbridge didn't seem to feel his glare; she continued eating her lunch and a small smile would appear every time she heard her own voice over the PA.

"Even you, Hermione?" George had appeared, closely followed by Fred and leant over Hermione's shoulder to grab half a sandwich from the platter in the centre of the table before wedging himself in beside her. Hermione flashed her eyes at him and scooted over, dragging her eyes back to the book she was speed reading.

"_Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other."_

"In that case, I'd be willing to help you break them," his eyes glinted as he muttered to her, taking a bite of his sandwich. Hermione blushed and continued spooning soup into her mouth and listening to the conversation around her.

"_Proper dress and decorum is to be maintained at all times."_

"Neville, your top button's undone. You're breaking rules," Ginny laughed happily, wrapping her tie around her head like a headband and hiking up her skirt a few inches.

"Ginny, you're going to get detention!" Neville stared in wonder as the witch went back to her stew, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers as Harry choked on his sandwich. Ron thumped him on the back a few times and he swallowed before taking a drink of his pumpkin juice and laughing with the rest of them. Ron loosened his tie and mussed up his hair rebelliously, grinning from ear to ear.

"Dress and decorum. Ha."

Harry was admiring himself on the backside of a spoon, tilting his head this way and that.

"Do you think she'd blow a gasket if I drew a few more scars on my head? I just feel like this one's a little lonely," he stated, straight-faced. Hermione was laughing, head thrown back in mirth.

"Or, wait!" Ron pitched in, "We can all have one. And call ourselves..."

"The Scarheads," said Fred.

"We could be a death metal band," continued George.

_"All __Extracurricular activities are subject to review by the High Inquisitor.__"_

"Here that? She'd have to sit in on all our practices. She could be our groupie," giggled Ginny, adjusting her head-tie.

"How's your hand?" Hermione enquired softly, looking over at George and holding his piercing gaze.

"Much better this morning, thanks to you," he held up his hand as he had the night before to show Hermione the faded pink outline there. He grinned before shifting a bit closer to her, allowing their thighs to settle against each other. Hermione subtly inhaled the fresh outdoors scent of him, surprising herself when it seemed to send a crackle down her spine.

The Gryffindors continued with lunch, joking and shuffling and complaining amongst themselves. Their table was by far the loudest, most rambunctious group of students in the Hall.

"_Students must observe new restrictions regarding Library and Common Room access._"

"Speaking of libraries..." Hermione packed her book away and drained the rest of her goblet. Prying herself carefully from between George and Neville, she stepped backwards into the aisle, stumbling a bit and steadying herself on George's shoulder.

"Aww, Hermione, don't go," Ginny pouted. "We were having such a good time." She stuck her bottom lip out at her friend from across the table.

"What do you have to study anyway? You're probably weeks ahead in every subject," Ron muttered, stuffing another sandwich into his mouth.

"I just have a bit of research to do before Transfiguration. It won't take long. See you lot later!" she called back over her shoulder before trotting up the benches and rounding out of sight in the Entrance Hall with a flick of her skirt.

"Honestly, it's a wonder she doesn't exude the smell of musty old books by now. She's always in library these days," Ron continued.

"These days?" Ginny repeated, eyebrows raised. "Have you not known Hermione these past four years? Have you not observed her habitual, obsessive need to absorb knowledge? I personally think she does it by osmosis. Just being with the books, you know..."

"Now you're just making her out to be a crackpot like Trelawney," Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Although, she did forget a book." He pointed to the table in front of where Hermione had been sitting. Sure enough, an old leather-bound book sat patiently waiting.

"Maybe she_ is_ going mad, then," Neville commented. "She never forgets _anything_."

George swiped the book from the table in a flash and stood.

"I'll give it to her. I'm going that way anyway," he shrugged. "Later, gang."

* * *

Hermione was running a finger down the list of words in the index of a large dusty tome when the vast silence of the empty library was disturbed.

"You know, I wasn't kidding when I said I'd help you break some rules."

George sidled up to her table and dropped his bag onto the chair next to her with a heavy thud. He set the book she'd left behind on the table next to her leaned over her shoulder again to read what she was looking up while he loosened his tie.

Heat rose in Hermione's face as she felt George's body brush up against her back.

"Thank you for bringing me my book. I was looking for it just now." She twisted in her seat to look up at him.

"Not a problem," George replied, leaning down to flip the book she'd been reading shut with his index finger. He grinned as she inhaled deeply and reached up for his tie, pulling him down another few inches.

"What rules to you figure we could break right now?" Hermione whispered tentatively, brushing her fingers down over his chest and along his taught shoulders.

"Well," George answered lowly, "I'm pretty sure we could break the eight inch buffer rule at least a few times..." He lowered his lips another fraction of an inch and smirked as Hermione's hands tugged on his tie once more, closing the distance between them completely. Promptly, she pressed her lips to his in a timid kiss which George allowed her to control for the time being. With slow, languid strokes from him, Hermione was soon leaning up into him, craving more contact. George smirked as he pulled back inch by inch, pulling Hermione up with him until she was standing in front of him with his shirt pulled into her fists, standing on her tip toes.

One of his hands slithered to her waist and around to the small of her back, gently bringing her closer to him. The other hand slid into her hair smoothly so that he could angle her head just so. He felt her melt against him as soon as he started insisting with his lips and she relinquished control with little difficulty.

Both were breathing hard as George began to shuffle her back towards the table where her books were lying.

Abruptly, she froze.

"What if someone comes around the corner?" she whispered, worried.

"Everyone's in the Great Hall eating. Even Pince is gone," George whispered back, chuckling.

"But what if-"

George hushed her again with another kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the crease of her lips lightly. He smirked devilishly as a faint groan emitted from her throat and her hips found his rather wantonly, considering this was Hermione Granger in his arms. As she felt the edge of the table on her hip, they broke apart and she jumped and scooted her bum back onto it, pushing the books back just far enough for her to sit there. George moved between her legs and bent down over her again for another searing kiss.

Heat was beginning to rise again as their lips battled for dominance. Hermione's fingers curled around the belt at his hips, ensuring he never strayed very far. His hand was still at the small of her back while the one from her hair was resting on her hip.

The ten minute warning bell sounded and the two reluctantly pulled apart a fraction of an inch. Hermione seemed rather embarrassed to have her legs curled around his thighs and immediately let go of his belt, sighing. George smirked.

"Well, wasn't that a good study session?" He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair shakily, before extending it to Hermione so she could hop down from the table gracefully.

"Absolutely," she replied breathlessly, stupid grin hitched back into place. She went to pack her bag back up and lift it to her shoulder, but George took it from her firmly and swung it onto one of his, holding out his arm for the second time that day.

"Where to now, fair maiden?"

Hermione's insides squelched together tightly as he pecked her lips one more time before leading them off down between the rows of books toward the door.

"Transfiguration, good sir."

* * *

Hermione arrived on the fifth floor laughing and clutching a stitch in her side, holding onto George Weasley like her life depended on it. The students in the corridor spared a glance for the pair as they stopped at the end of the hall to part ways.

Hermione squeezed his arm before letting go and turning down towards Professor McGonagall's classroom overlooking the courtyard. George saluted to Harry and Ron down the hall and turned on his heel, heading back the way he came.

Hermione trotted up towards her class, still holding a hand to her stomach but more or less under control. By the time she reached the boys and their bemused expressions, she was just chuckling under her breath.

"You're almost late," Ron stated, a look of annoyance replacing his bewildered one.

"_Almost_. Meaning I am not, as of yet." Hermione brushed between them, following Lavender into the large stone chamber before them.

"But you're always the first one to class."

Harry grinned and followed them in, watching them bicker between them and split apart to sit at separate desks. Ron sat as far as he could from Hermione, who sat down beside Neville and greeted the boy cheerily.

"Did you find what you were looking for in the library, Hermione?" Neville asked innocently curious. Hermione laughed again before nodding her head.

"Yes, but I might have to go back later. I didn't quite finish up."

Ron kept throwing Hermione furtive looks before getting too frustrated at the fact that she didn't seem to notice, and gave up.

McGonagall was collecting their essays on the State of Non-Being when Harry seized the chance to talk across the aisle with her.

"You seem awfully cheery this afternoon. Would it happen to have anything to do with a certain Weasley not by the name of Ron?" Harry posed the question delicately. Hermione threw him a warning glance.

"Maybe. But I don't quite feel like talking about it right now. _In the middle of class_," Hermione hissed in response, pink cheeks aglow. Harry thought she had a rather guilty look about her.

"Later, then." The subject was dropped and Hermione went back to concentrating on McGonagall's lecture as best she could considering the fact that in the last twenty minutes George had been kissing the very air out of her lungs. Hermione licked her lips in remembrance.

* * *

Dinner had come and gone, and Hermione was itching to get back to Gryffindor Tower to finish the essay...

Who was she kidding? She wanted to find George Weasley and...

Oh, this was getting her nowhere fast.

Her rounds seemed to be taking double the time, whatever the reason for her wanting to be back in her common room. She wandered down the fifth floor corridor debating whether or not she might actually run into any trouble-makers tonight.

Sighing, she continued past a set of suits of armour and rounded the corner, moonlight shinning through the glass panes of the castle. Everything was silent and she hadn't managed to run into anyone on her travels yet. Pausing for a heartbeat, Hermione pulled her shirt from her skirt, loosened her tie and popped the first two or three buttons open, taking a deep breath. The day had been long and trying just as much as it had been exciting and giddy.

Which is why she nearly jumped out of her skin when a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

"You're in violation, there. Proper dress and decorum is to be maintained at all times, you know."

George was standing at the end of the corridor leaning against the stone wall with one leg up and a smirk on his face, his uniform equally dishevelled. His hair was sticking every which way and his lop-sided smile was back in place, just where she had last seen it in this very hallway earlier this afternoon.

Hermione approached him, but he didn't budge, just followed her with his eyes as she turned and leant against the wall next to him.

"How was detention?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Alright. I already swiped some of that Murlap stuff from Snape's classroom and showed Fred how to use it. Good tip, that," George help up his hand in the pale light. The skin was still pink, but it had evidently been cleaned up since he had been dismissed from Umbridge's classroom. Red had already faded to pink and the scar was almost pearly in the moonlight.

Hermione leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his skin, unsure of how he would react to this gesture. She settled her shoulders back against the cool stone, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. For a heartbeat, she thought he wouldn't say anything and just ignore her motion.

And then his hand slipped into hers and he was pulling her into McGonagall's classroom and slipping the door shut after them quietly. He rounded on her with a hungry look in his eyes.

"I've been waiting _all_ afternoon for this..."

He closed the distance between them in an instant, immediately pulling her cool body flush with his warm one. Her hands reached for the back of his neck, entwining her fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, and pulling gently.

"And I haven't?" she questioned between searing kisses. "When did this happen, anyway?"

"I don't know, but I like it."

His hands were smoothing down her sides, making her muscles clench in anticipation and excitement. His fingers inched down to her hips and slid to her back easily before moving lower and cupping her bottom with his palms. Hermione pulled the tie from his neck and dropped it to the ground.

"We're going to be in so much trouble if we're caught. Out of bed after curfew, messy uniforms, less than eight inches apart..."

Hermione moaned at George's words, pressing even closer to him. Again, her hips stopped at a desk and again she scooted onto it, bringing George with her.

"Do you like breaking rules, Hermione?" George smirked and kissed down her throat, leaning her back onto the desktop. He leaned over her and lowered himself over her slowly.

"Yeah, but it's so much more exciting with you around," she gasped inching herself up farther onto the desk so she was completely off the floor, lying in the middle of the dark wood surface. George was climbing after her and before long he was settled between her thighs with his hands either side of her head. She was leaning up into his mouth as his lips made their decent into her cleavage. Her body was nearly vibrating with the effort to keep from moaning out loud.

George was having an equally hard time, because every time she shifted or arched or moaned, it went straight to his groin. Her hands were working on the buttons of his shirt and before he realized it, she was tugging it off of his body and dropping it next to his tie. Her lips blazed a trail down his throat and her groans skittered across his skin as he snuck his hands underneath her own shirt and kneaded the heated skin of her sides.

Hermione's legs wrapped themselves around George's trim waist and he nearly lost his head when she arched her hips into his and scratched her nails lightly down his stomach. When he groaned particularly loudly, Hermione's eyes snapped open and she met his gaze, seemingly bewildered with the situation. She went to pull her fingers away from him and he stopped her.

"Don't stop. I _want_ you to touch me," he pleaded into her ear and she shivered from head to toe before resuming her activities.

George undid the buttons of her shirt, pulling down one of the cups of her pale lilac bra. She hissed as the cool air touched her heated flesh and then let out a long, desperate moan when George placed his lips over her puckered nipple for a kiss. His tongue slid out and laved it as well, making her arch hard off the desk beneath them. Soon she was quietly keening in his ear with her fingers pulling on his hair a bit more roughly.

Georges hand slid between them and brushed her thigh. Immediately her legs dropped open as far as they would go and she looked like she wanted to both laugh at and scold herself. She was about to open her mouth when he brushed the thigh again, farther up this time, and she choked on her words.

George grinned and inched up again. Hermione's hand snapped up and pulled him to her lips once more with a strangled growl. She felt him rubbing up against her, and she knew perfectly well where this was going.

George seemed to be reading her mind, and he pulled back slightly.

"We don't have to-"

"Maybe not completely-"

"But just a little more?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Can I touch you, then?"

"Please," she nodded again, the flush from her chest rising into her face.

George laughed and lowered his head once more to her throat. His fingers danced at her knee and then over to the other one, skating across her smooth skin, leaving trails of fire behind them.

"_Please_," she voiced again as his fingers edged higher once more, pausing and then continuing on to brush over the damp material of her underwear a few times. Hermione's movements were coming quicker now, more frantic. George could hear the desperation in her mewling. She had planted her feet on the desk either side of him and now she was thrusting up, searching with her hips for more pressure from his nimble fingers. George latched his lips to hers and quickly pushed her underwear aside, running a finger straight up her slick crease, and he swallowed the great moan that she couldn't hold back. An immense deal of control had to be put to use on his part not to get too carried away at this point, otherwise, he might have a hot sticky mess to take care of later.

He found her clitoris with his middle finger and rubbed in little circles a few times, feeling her body tense up and tense up until he almost thought she would never relax-

Hermione's mouth opened in a silent 'o' as her body arched back harshly and snapped apart at the joints and she dragged ragged breath into her lungs over and over. She was trembling slightly from the cold and the release and she was flushed from head to toe. She was silent for a few moments and then finally looked at him.

"Oh my _god_."

"I know, right?" George laughed, near hysterics. Hermione's face held a bemused expression.

"What's so funny?"

George sobered slowly.

"Just the first thing out of your mouth, that's all. 'Oh my _god_'." George shifted and sighed, and Hermione jumped and looked down. He read her mind again.

"You don't have to do anything-"

"But maybe I want to." She slid off the desk shakily and pushed his chest until he had taken her spot, still warm from her body. "Besides, it wouldn't be fair of me to not do _something_, considering what you just did."

"Hermione, that's not the way it works." He meant that to come out much more convincingly, but she was undoing his pants quite efficiently and quickly. As such, it came out mostly as a moan when she pulled his trousers down to his knees and tugged his boxers down with them. George was watching her face as she watched him spring free and he groaned again when she licked her lips unconsciously.

Hermione climbed back onto the table on her knees, straddling his thighs and leaning up to kiss him. He knew she was going to touch him; it was his own muscles tight with anticipation now and he almost couldn't stand it. Her fingers were trailing down his torso, making his skin jump and quake against them.

His breath halted as her fingers tickled down his pleasure trail and into his pubic hair and finally-

"Hermione," he panted, taking a deep breath and flexing his muscles all over. She was kissing his neck and at one point he felt his chest constrict tightly when her teeth grazed over his shoulder, leaving pink scrapes after her.

George's hands were skimming her skin, not being able to keep still enough to settle anywhere for any length of time. Hermione, though not really knowing exactly what she should be doing, was greatly bolstered by his gasps and pants.

"Can you just... oh god, just a little..."

George's hand flew down to lay over hers and he squeezed over the grip she already had on him, his hips pushing up to her fist and his muscles tightening. Hermione ran her teeth down along his throat and trailed her lips along the shell of his ear.

"Is my hand enough, or should I..."

George let go of her hand as the tension in his body was pulled even tighter and the guttural groan that tumbled from his lips set her blushing furiously in the darkness. Hermione literally watched as she plucked the tightly drawn strings of desire, making him quiver. She tightened her grip and pulled once more as George fell near silent, breath frozen in his chest for what seemed like eternity and then he broke.

"Hermione," he grunted, breathing through clenched teeth as her hand slowed gradually.

"Yes, George?" she answered, quite unsure of the whole aftermath situation.

His gaze found hers and he smiled lethargically.

"You didn't have to, but I obviously like that you did," he pulled her close and just held her there for a few moments. "You have magic hands, by the way. Next time, I wouldn't mind if you used your mouth like you suggested."

Hermione beamed, self conscious of the fact that his attention was directed straight at her and her alone. George sighed and looked down at the pair of them.

"You're a bad influence, you are. Look at me," he laughed. "Breaking rules left, right and centre."

Hermione barked out a laugh before making to push him off the table after wiping her hand off on his chest.

"Oi! Watch where you're getting that. It _stains_, you know. You evil, little-"

"Somehow, I don't think that extra little smidge on your chest is going to matter," she pointed to his abdomen and he glanced down.

"I suppose you're right," he reached for his wand to clean himself up and then began gathering clothing from the floor and handing Hermione her share so she could redress herself somewhat.

They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower hand in hand, dashing from one set of shadows to the next.

* * *

"Alright, it's later."

Harry sat down beside Hermione. She was surrounded by her books, naturally, in the Common Room, but she wasn't getting much done.

Fred and George had finished out the week of detention they had been prescribed and were now free o do what they wished after supper every night. Tonight, George had spent a good chunk of time working quietly at the same table, joking with Fred and Lee Jordan occasionally, but mostly just distracting her. On purpose. Every time they caught each other's eyes, she could see the mischievous glint in them. At the moment Harry decided to join her, he was actually practicing some charms on the other side of the room, with Ron being the test subject. How that happened, she wasn't sure. She was too preoccupied with the way George's jeans rested on his hips.

"Yes, it is." Hermione blinked up at her dark-haired friend.

Harry flicked his hair back and sighed.

"So, you and George, then?"

Her eyes dropped and she blushed.

"I'll take that as a yes. I don't feel like dragging everything out of you right now. Ron knows, I think. I haven't talked to him, and I don't think George has come right out and said anything to him, but for as unobservant as he can be, Ron's not stupid. He knows. And I think he's okay with it." Harry paused. "So... Yeah."

Hermione nodded and looked up at him again.

"Good. Okay," Harry nodded as well. "So, I think it falls to me to make sure he knows what kind of pain he'll be going through if he hurts you. In any way. Whatsoever." He had a resigned look on his face.

"Oh, don't act like you won't enjoy terrorizing him in the time it takes to make that clear," Hermione laughed, fiddling with her quill.

"You're right," Harry snorted, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving a small squeeze. "As always."

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered.

"You _are_ always right."

"You _know_ I don't mean for that."

"Yeah, I know. You're welcome."

* * *

A few weeks later, Hermione was slaving away in the library over her textbooks and parchment, the dark aisle lit by the one light she had on over her table. She had finished two feet for Binns and a foot and half for Snape and was about halfway done the eighteen inches for Umbridge. She _would_ have been completely finished, but George kept invading her thoughts every so often, and she would get a jumpy, tingly feeling in her abdomen.

Ron and Harry had come to work briefly, before going to Quidditch practice after dinner. Darkness had fallen, and curfew was fast approaching, but Hermione worked on.

Madam Pince had left the library to her for the night, for Hermione was one of her favourite students and the woman trusted her implicitly with the safety and well-being of her books.

"I thought I might find you here."

George was standing at the end of the aisle she was seated in, his Quidditch robes spattered with dirt and mud in a ring around the bottom. His hair was standing every which way, windblown and gritty.

"Well, you were right," Hermione smiled, drinking him in as he sidled up to her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Here I am."

"Indeed, but I need to relocate you. Immediately." Grinning, he starting packing her papers neatly between her books and sliding them into her bag.

"What for?" Hermione asked, sitting up. "Hey, I wasn't done with that."

"I can think of better things to be doing, personally."

"Madam Pince is gone."

"While that sounds lovely, I have something much better in mind," he smirked and pulled her up, shouldering her bag and leading her in the direction of the library doors.

The halls were silent and still as they sped through the darkness and Hermione wondered why they hadn't run into anyone.

"What's the rush?" she asked as she stumbled when they turned a corner.

"Sorry," George slowed a bit and they continued to trot down the corridor. "I'm just really..."

"Really what?"

"I just finished Quidditch practice."

"So?"

"It was a really good one."

"_And_?"

George stopped and pushed her up against the hallway, raindrops from his hair shaking off onto her skin. He pressed himself to her and a look of understanding flickered over her features.

"Because I'm incredibly horny. That's why," his voice rumbled low in his chest and Hermione felt a spark ignite between her legs. She stretched up and brushed her lips against his, not really expecting the intensity that he responded with. He grunted and pulled himself away, again setting a quick pace down the hall.

Finally, he pulled her into a dark room, lit only by the light falling in the window. Outside, the Black Lake was true to its name and the surface remained smooth as glass, reflecting everything perfectly. By the watery light of the moon, the Trophy Room glimmered around them, making the glass and silver look like ice.

Dropping Hermione's bag on the floor with a dull thunk, George crushed her to him tightly, planting a searing kiss on her lips and sucking the air from her lungs. His fingers were instantly in her curls and he was dragging his lips up her jaw, scratching her skin deliciously with his stubble. Her hands were fisted in his red and gold Quidditch uniform, the dampness from the brief rain earlier still evident. He was moving harshly, kissing her hard and groping her flesh under her clothes. Her groans came quickly, which only seemed to spur him more.

He had not made much of any noise until he found himself shoved up against the wall with Hermione's hands snatching his robes away and discarding them without a second glance. Her mouth was on his neck, and she was sucking and his knees almost buckled because she was keeping the ferocious pace he had set. It was almost painful, rubbing up against her, still being constrained by all his clothing.

Suddenly, she wasn't there anymore, and he missed the heat of her. Instead, she was hopping on one leg, pulling her gray stockings down her legs as best she could. Just as quickly as she had vanished from his immediate proximity, she was back with full force. George unbuttoned her shirt hastily and pushed it from her shoulders, before spinning them and pressing her bare back to the stone.

"George!" she scolded. It was immediately denounced by the gut-wrenching moan she emitted as his lips pulled at the sensitive skin of her clavicle. Hermione inhaled deeply as he leant over her, the scent of outdoors and sweat and mud and a smell uniquely his own flooding her senses. Her deft hands slid the belt from his pants and pulled the soggy material of both his trousers and the boxers beneath them down to his ankles for him to step out of.

Her eyes flickered to his momentarily and then back down to his abdomen, following his cut lines and the spattering of reddish brown fuzz right down to his aching penis. It never failed that every time her mouth was even close to his groin, he would get this look of absolute awe on his face, perfect bliss. She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his head, swirling her tongue devilishly.

George pulled her up in an instant, and her bra was tossed carelessly over his shoulder and one of her legs was hooked over his hip. The heat emanating from the two was scorching. His lips were everywhere, and her hands raced over the heated skin of his shoulders, chest and back. Quidditch did wonderful things, she had to concede. His burning palms ran up under her skirt, cupping and kneading her bottom, pressing her core right onto him.

"Do you think you're ready-"

Hermione interrupted him before he was finished his question.

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure," she added, seeing his lips open again. "Positive."

"_Positi-_"

"George Weasley, will you please get on with it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

And then he slid into her, waiting with baited breath. His blue eyes sought out hers and she blinked.

"Why did you stop? What are you _waiting_ for?" Hermione smacked his shoulder slightly, grinding her hips with his to get him to move. He half laughed half groaned and slid a hand up to hold her thigh in place as he pulled back and sunk into her again. The other rested on the rock wall beside Hermione.

The pace gained momentum and Hermione was letting out breathy moans and hitched herself as high as she could get on his hip and stood as tall as she possibly could. His jaw was clenched and his teeth gritted in concentration. Hermione bit his shoulder and he groaned, startling himself out of silence.

"Maybe we could name you High Inquisitor for a night," George suggested, panting in Hermione's ear.

"Why?" she tallied.

"Then you could declare Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five, because I'm breaking the rules right now."

"Which one is that again?" she huffed.

"_The High Inquisitor..._" George exhaled heavily, reaching a hand between them and placing his thumb over Hermione's clit, "_will henceforth have supreme authority..._" Hermione's gasp sent jitters up George's spine and his control was slipping, "_over all punishments._"

Hermione clenched around him and he shuddered, his thrusting became spastic and then he sagged against her, both of them heaving cool air into their lungs. Their skin stuck together slightly as they eventually pulled away from each other.

George snorted as Hermione smoothed down her skirt primly. It was wrinkled and lopsided and she wasn't wearing anything else. Her hair was mussed on one side and fuzzy in the back, where the stone wall had rubbed against it repeatedly from their frenzied shoves.

"Yeah?" she raised an eyebrow. "Well, let' see you put all your nasty soggy clothes back on, then, and see if you wouldn't prefer a wrinkly skirt."

"Touché."

A pair of yellow eyes appeared in the archway, and whiskers twitched. Mrs. Norris slunk into the room and eyed the two teenagers warily before streaking off into the darkness when George jumped at her.

"Oh, that's fantastic. Now Filch'll be here any second. That's wonderful, George," Hermione snapped, grin still firmly in place.

"M'lady?" he offered his arm, pants still undone, belt slung around his shoulders and his uniform folded over his arm.

Hermione laughed and whacked his chest with the back of her hand before taking off into the dark with her clothes bundled in her arms, her giggling quickly fading.

George shook his head and followed.

"Will you please be my High Inquisitor? _Please_, Hermione?" he called after her. "I'm sure I have some spare rope somewhere."

* * *

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